Puppet
Animated earth,
puppet of mud and blood,
my soul within you
feels soiled
by this pitiless sky.
On my back,
in the gutter,
I gaze upwards
at glittering stars.
Do they know
I’m down here?
And if they know,
do they look down
their astral noses
when they write
my horoscope,
my horror-scope
of late.
When daylight loses itself
in night’s dark weave,
what remains,
but souvenirs and dusty
photos of moments
I alone recall?
Memories cling like mud
to my match-stick frame,
and me in the gutter,
a man, right now,
in nothing else
but name.
rogermoorepoet 
Love all your poems. How are you?
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Thank you for liking my poems and a double thank you for inquiring after my health. I was declared cancer free 18 months ago, so I am doing quite well. Still some minor side effects from the treatment, but basically good. My current project is to rewrite The Cancer Chronicles I kept throughout 2014-2015 but allowed to lie fallow in 2016. I needed some distance to turn ‘thought and feeling’ into poetry. These ‘dark’ poems have a silver lining, but they are all part of that experience.
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I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were sick. I’m glad you are well now. I’ll continue to pray for your good health. Good luck for your Chronicles.
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I appreciate your concern and your best wishes. Thank you. I also believe in the power of prayer … thank you for that too. Blue Angels, posted a few days back, is pretty explicit. As is This Death …
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This is bleak… love the horror-scope. You are a good man Roger and a fine writer
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Now that makes my day … thank you so much, Mr. Cake. The sun is shining through the window and all’s well in the little world of Don Rogelio. I do my best with my writing. I am so glad that you like it.
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I do and I appreciate our friendship.
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Funny things, e-friends. We communicate in very different ways and I have made some very good and long-lasting e-relationships.
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Yes they are but worthwhile nevertheless.
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Beautiful….👏👏👏
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Thank you so much for visiting and I am glad you like the poem.
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Oh goodness, how utterly bleak. A horror scope indeed. One of the worst feelings in the world is helplessness. To have no control of events as they spin out around you. Even worse to feel that they are being manipulated against you…
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It wasn’t a nice feeling. This is from Echoes of An Impromptu Metaphysics. It is one of my rewrites. I think the rewrite is even bleaker than the original!
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Oh my! 😦
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*puppets
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Amazing words-“when they write my horoscope,my horror-scope late….”realy we all r like puppet in hand of God.
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Thank you, Aruna. So glad you like the poem. Your words remind me of the spiritual: “He’s got the whole world in His hands.”
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It is eternal truth,dear sir.
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Dear sir !!have u read my post”hey rogermoor sir,dis is ur answer.”by dt post i want to say dt a writer,poet,n any creative person is not become oldaged till d end of life.they all r always evergreen like youth.m i right?plz reply.
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